


When you move, I'm moved

by ididliterallynothingtoday



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dancing, First Kiss, Fluff, Internalized homophobia mention, M/M, Pining, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Shared Bed, alcohol mention, homophobia mention, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 23:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18108383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ididliterallynothingtoday/pseuds/ididliterallynothingtoday
Summary: Bucky is a fantastic dancer. Steve would say the best in Brooklyn, if not New York. Only problem is that Steve always gets left out on Bucky's date nights on account of his many illnesses. Steve doesn't really mind though, because it means he gets to sit and sketch Bucky doing what he loves most in the world. Dancing.Coming home from their weekly trip to the local dance hall both men are slightly tipsy and when they reach their shared apartment tensions begin to rise as they settle down for the night.





	When you move, I'm moved

 

Every Friday night was the same. Steve sat in the corner of the dance hall while Bucky flitted from dame to dame, failed double date long forgotten. All parties had moved on. Bucky and his first girl of the night, Lottie, had separated after a few dances. They were nowhere near going steady, so why limit themselves to one partner? Steve’s date for the evening, Rosie, had lacked interest from the very beginning though. How could Steve keep any girl’s attention when Bucky was near? They’d both made an effort on the walk to bar but as soon as it became perfectly clear Steve wouldn’t be able to keep up on the dance floor, she had made her way across the room for sweeter pastures. The delicate scent of her perfume the only thing left to keep Steve company as he settled himself in at one of the tables set at the periphery of the room. All furniture pushed as close to the wall as possible to allow for the biggest dance floor available. It was here that Steve was comfortable. Used to being ignored by men and women alike, he would sit and people watch, sipping on his whiskey soda until Bucky was ready to go home.

On this night as on all those before the cheap whiskey flowed as easily as the soft pleated skirts of the girls whirling around the dance floor. A blur for Steve whose colour blindness washed out the bright scene into a swathe of blues and yellows. Beautiful in its own way to be sure, but a frustration for the artist observing. Even through the muted sea of movement, Steve’s eyes were only focused on his friend. And why would they not be? Bucky moved with a lithe grace which belied his strength, gentle movements flowed effortlessly into one another as songs changed, tempos rose and fell. Every girl in that room wanted a chance to dance with Bucky. As handsome as he was talented and ever the gentlemen, treating girls to all the drinks he could afford, which was never many. But then, it wasn’t the drinks that kept them coming back for more.

Bucky was the centre of Steve’s world. Something that was reflected in the endless sketches in Steve’s too small notebook. The one he always had with him tucked away in the pocket of his slacks alongside his asthma cigarettes. One small reach away should inspiration strike and strike it did, like clockwork, every Friday night while watching Bucky’s one man tour de force across the dance floor only stopping for the occasional drink and only slowing when the music did. As the current song came to an end Bucky twirled his partner one last time before letting her slip away into the crowd. He watched her go a gentle look of satisfaction on his face, hair slicked back with what must have been equal parts sweat and Brylcreem by now. Steve watched as Bucky’s chest rose and fell, drank in the slow curve of his lopsided smile, the beads of perspiration slowly rolling down the side of his face. Bucky’s strong arms were not empty for long as his next dance partner stepped forward into his waiting embrace. The band had picked up a slower melody, trying to wind down the evening with a slow dance for the remaining couples. Steve watched as they jostled around the room, the hall was still full despite the late hour. He had often wondered what it would be like to be the girl in Bucky’s arms. To be enveloped in them, close enough to smell the cologne and sweat and feel the too hot heat of Bucky’s body as they swayed together. But mainly he thought about what it would be like to be on the receiving end of the slow satisfied smile Bucky got at the end of every song as the dance came to an end. On the receiving end of the look of unadulterated joy and ecstasy Bucky got when he was living purely in the moment and had given himself over completely to the music. It was Steve’s one addiction and had many, _many_ pages dedicated to in various sketch books including the one Steve was currently working in. Desperately trying to capture the curve of Bucky’s broad shoulders, the gentle hands that grasped them, the way Bucky’s shirt clung to small of his back accentuating the lean muscle there.

Steve was lost in translating the smooth lines of Bucky’s body on to paper when the man himself began to make his way over to Steve’s corner table. The final song of the evening had ended allowing the room to fill with the hum of chatter and the scrape of chairs as people made their way to the exit. Headed home either together or alone. The last cries of the groups of men trying to get the attention of girls as they hastily reapplied perfume and lipstick, stoically ignoring the catcalls. Steve was still drawing when Bucky finally reached the table. He only noticed Bucky’s arrival due to the shadow he cast across the sketchpad clutched tightly in Steve’s small hands. If it was those hands Steve had drawn into his picture of Bucky slow dancing instead of the girls whose hands were supposed to be there, who was to say? Not Steve and certainly not with Bucky stood there in front of him.

“Ready to head home, punk?” Bucky said, words a gentle slur as he shook his head before running his hands through his hair to fix the errant strands, slicking them back into place. Steve scrambled to close his sketchpad and cover it from the beads of sweat sent flying by Bucky’s actions.

“That is gross Buck.” Steve replied as he downed the last of his drink. Soda bubbles long gone leaving only the weak sting of the whiskey as it slid down his throat, a soft blush rising to his cheeks, “And yes, I’m ready to go when you are.” He threw Bucky’s jacket to him. His friend catching it and slipping it on in one easy movement, chuckling at Steve’s weak protest before grabbing his friend by the shoulder and pulling him in close.

“Mon then Stevie. Don’t got all night. My feet hurt and my bed is calling.” Bucky said, slipping into a whine towards the end of his sentence, imploring Steve to hurry up.

“Maybe your feet wouldn’t hurt so much if you came and sat down once in a while, jerk.” Steve felt a little guilty at the jab, but it’s something the friends had discussed multiple times. Bucky was happiest on the dance floor and Steve was perfectly comfortable watching on the side-lines. That high paced space wasn’t suited to someone like Steve, and hell even if could snap his fingers getting rid of his asthma and scoliosis so he could move as freely as Bucky, he would still have the issue of you know, actually talking to a girl for long enough to ask her to dance. Bucky’s only response was to squeeze Steve in tighter to his side as they headed to the exit. Air that was hot and heavy with smoke, sweat and a mix of colognes and perfumes slowly giving way to fresher, colder night air. Or at least what past for fresh air in Brooklyn. As they stepped outside the hall a voice cried out over the crowd. “Hey Barnes! You got a light?”

Bucky looked out around for the source of the noise, eyes dragging around, slow with whiskey, as a small frame topped with a head of blonde curls came into view. It was Bucky’s date from the beginning of the evening. “Oh, hey there Lottie. Nah I ain’t got a light. M’sure Stevie does though. Dontcha Stevie?”

“Sure Buck.” Steve fumbled in his pockets for his box of asthma cigarettes and the lighter contained within. Once he’d managed to get it out, he held it before him, small flame flickering in the slight breeze. Lottie, cigarette dangly from between two perfectly painted cherry red lips, leant forward to dip the head of the cigarette towards Steve. As it gently began to flicker and smoke, she stepped backwards, eyes moving to Bucky. “Cheers boys. See you again soon hopefully.” Watching her make her way back over to her friend Rosie, Steve knew that had been aimed solely at Bucky and not him.

The boys meandered their way back to their shared apartment. The crowds getting sparser the further they got from the dance hall. They were silent all the way home. The small spark Steve had held inside being pressed so close to his best friend had been dampened by their last-minute interaction with Lottie. It had reminded Steve that Bucky was not his and that the only pieces of Bucky that Steve got to keep lay within those hastily sketched pictures tucked away tightly in his pocket. And yet the heat passing between their bodies made Steve want to believe otherwise. Bucky was still holding Steve close, leaning a good deal more weight on his smaller friend than really could be necessary. Bucky’s words may have been slightly slurred but he was by no means drunk enough to warrant pressing himself this close to Steve. Steve knew drunk Bucky and this wasn’t it. So why the closeness?

It was only at the stairs to their apartment that Bucky moved away from Steve. Letting Steve head up the stairs first, as was Bucky’s custom. A slight push of encouragement at the base of Steve’s back to keep him moving as he puffed his way to the second floor. As they reached their front door Steve began to reach for the key in his jacket and Bucky reached his arms around the smaller man’s waist, nuzzling his face into the side of Steve’s neck. “Mon Stevie. I’m getting cold out here y’know.” Another untruth from Bucky, Steve couldn’t bring himself to care though. He was relishing in the close contact. Maybe Bucky was a little drunker than Steve had thought.

Once inside the apartment both men started to undress. Steve straight down to his skivvies, crawled into their shared bed and watched as Bucky struggled slightly to peel out of his sweat soaked shirt, balling it up and sticking it with the laundry before pottering around the cramped space in his trousers, suspenders hanging loose from his waist band. Bucky made has way over to their small stove come fire place and attempted to light it and lessen the chill of the still apartment air. Nimble fingers balled up yesterday’s newspaper for kindling and then stack the small wooden briquettes in a way that would pull the small flames upwards, keeping the fire steady. Steve watched Bucky’s actions, striking the flint and gently tending the growing flames. As the light from the stove cast Bucky’s profile into stark relief against the dark of the apartment Steve’s fingers itched for his pencil and pad. Wanting to capture the exact way the flames highlighted Bucky’s cheekbones and the gentle dip of his mouth. But the moment was over too soon. Steve would try hard to remember the image and save it to draw in the morning. As he was coming away from the fire Steve could no longer see Bucky’s face and as his friend began to strip Steve closed his eyes and curled in towards the pillow to give his friend some privacy. Although in his head he imagined Bucky’s graceful movements, the way he would run his hands through his hair as he made his way over to their bed. Steve smiled into his pillow.

“Jesus fuck!”

Steve’s small reverie was broken by Bucky’s shout and the shake of the bed as Bucky accidentally kicked it in the low light. Okay so maybe Bucky’s movements had not been that graceful. Steve opened his eyes just as Bucky was climbing in under covers.

“Everything okay there, pal?” Steve smirked seeing Bucky’s grumpy face as he settled next him.

“Shut up. Steven.” Was Bucky’s only response as he shut his eyes and ignored Steve’s smirk widening into a full-blown grin and laughter. One eye cracked open. “Something funny, punk?”

“Nope nothing.” Steve said, trying to restrain himself.

“Yeah well. Go to sleep then, huh?”

“Sure thing, Buck.” The smile was still evident in Steve’s voice, “Straight to sleep.”

Both of Bucky’s eyes opened then, gaze meeting Steve’s. “You know if you don’t pipe down, I’m gonna have to make you.”

Steve snorted, the banter flowing easily between the two of them. “Oh yeah big guy and how you plan on doing that?”

“Like this.” Bucky said, and with that he slid closer to Steve under the covers, snaking an arm easily over Steve’s waist pulling him in tight. The movement, so commonplace between the two of them suddenly seemed charged. Bucky’s face was millimetres from Steve’s, their noses gently bumped together as Steve replied.

“Not sure how this is supposed to shut me up Buck.” Fire coiled low in Steve’s belly and his chest began to tighten from anxiety. He would have given anything to know what Bucky was thinking right now. Just how drunk was he and what the hell did he think he was doing pressing up on Steve like this. Like he was some dame that Bucky was trying it on with. Stuff like this wasn’t supposed to happen between two guys.

And yet as Steve felt Bucky’s fingers skim along the side of his torso softly tracing the edge of his rib cage, Steve felt all the years of yearning and the tension between them building to a head. Bucky smiled softly at him. “Guess you’re right Stevie. Might have to rethink this, huh?” Bucky closed his eyes, lips twitching as though he was going to speak again but he remained silent. Steve was hanging on Bucky’s every breath and he watched as his friend swallowed thickly before opening his eyes again and continuing, “You ever been kissed, Stevie?”

Steve shook his head in response, a blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks. Not that Bucky could have seen the redness in his cheeks in the low light.

Bucky huffed. “Yeah that’s what I thought.”

“Then why’d you ask, Jerk.” Steve pressed his face into the pillow out of embarrassment, trying to avoid Bucky’s eyes.

“Just checking. I don’t know what you get up to when I’m at work.”

Steve open mouth laughed into his pillow. Anxiety forcing the sound out of his chest with more volume than he had intended. “You know perfectly well what I get up to when you’re at work. Either I’m in bed ill or I’m desperately tryna find a job so I can contribute something for once.”

“You do contribute.” Bucky said, frowning, eyes watching Steve who was trying to avoid eye contact.

“By doin’ what exactly? Annoying the neighbours with my coughing fits?”

“No! You cook. You clean. Make the place look all pretty and that.”

“Yeah I’m a regular house wife. M’sure my organisation of the utensil drawer makes the place look _real_ pretty Buck.”

“S’not what I meant, Stevie.” Bucky sighed, his breath ghosting across Steve’s cheek. They were so close. Too close and yet somehow not close enough. “So, you never kissed anyone at all huh?”

“I already said no Bucky. You want me to say it again?” Steve’s embarrassed blushes had started to turn into a flush of annoyance tinged with anger. At this point in the conversation he really just wanted to roll over and go to sleep where he could dream about the way Bucky moved on the dance floor. In his dreams Steve could keep up and that contented, satisfied smile that Bucky got at the end of every dance was all Steve’s and no-one else’s.

“You ever thought about kissin’ anyone?” Bucky whispered.

Steve wanted to say yes. Wanted to say _you_. But all that came out was a whispered “Sometimes I guess.” He readjusted himself under the weight of Bucky’s arm finally meeting his friends gaze through the flop of his fringe. Lots of things looked blue to Steve, his vision being what it was, but the blue of Bucky’s eyes had always been his favourite.

As Steve shuffled in the bed, Bucky’s hand took the opportunity to explore more of Steve’s body. Palm flat and warm feeling its way up and down the side of Steve’s body and across his chest before coming to rest on his stomach.

“You could try kissing me you know. For practice. Can’t go around kissing dames and being all awkward about it. Need to have a bit of skill beforehand.”

“I wasn’t exactly planning to head out tomorrow and reel in the nearest girl for a smooch, Buck.”

“Well sure.” Bucky frowned. This time it was him who wouldn’t reach Steve’s gaze. Steve watched as Bucky’s forehead crinkled in confusion and concentration before he continued, “But you need to be prepared, Stevie. I mean once one girl gets a taste of you, I’m sure you’ll have ‘em lining up for you.”

Steve huffed a laugh. “Sure, Buck. There’ll be a queue out the apartment and down into the street. Tell me, what grand secrets of necking did you plan to impart?”

Bucky’s frown deepened, “I was being serious, Stevie. Just planning to show you the basics y’know? What to do with your tongue and how to put your lips and that…” The end of his sentence faded out, leaving only the crackling of the fire and the sounds of their breathing.

Breaking the soft near silence of the room Steve said “Sounds like a great plan, Buck. Only one flaw, boys don’t kiss other boys.” His heart was heavy with the words and the unspoken _aren’t supposed to_ that he so desperately wanted to tag on. He and Buck both knew about guys who did that stuff. Bucky had come home more than once from the docks with tales from his work pals about a couple of fairies they’d beat up over the weekend. Those conversations were always short, tense and one sided. Afterwards Bucky would usually end up going out, regardless of what night of the week it was. Steve had never liked to think too much into that and was scared about where this conversation was going. His words hung heavy in between them and, as if he had just processed what Steve had said, Bucky removed his hand from Steve’s stomach and rolled over onto his back.

“Sure Stevie. Whatever you say.”

Steve rolled onto his back too, his shoulder jostling against Bucky’s. “So, I guess I’ll just have to fumble it my first time, huh?” he said, trying to lighten the mood as he pulled bed covers up a little further.

“You don’t _have_ to do anything, Steve.” Bucky said turning his head to look at Steve, who mirrored his actions.

“You really wanna do this?” Steve’s question was so quiet it barely spoken, as was the reply.

“Yeah. Just don’t want you to feel left out.”

Both men slowly moved their faces closer to one another, noses touching as they had done earlier. Bucky brushed his lips over Steve’s. “You can say no, Steve.”

“I know. I’m not sure if I want to.” Steve’s stomach was doing somersaults as he felt Bucky’s lips press more firmly against his own. He was nearly shaking from nerves, trying so hard not to let go and give in too much, letting slip how truly invested in this moment he was. He fumbled to line his lips up with Bucky’s, who had parted his ever so slightly. Steve tried to keep up, his brain failing to fully process what was happening until Bucky’s tongue was running over his lips and sliding into his mouth. All Steve could think was how Bucky’s tongue tasted of whiskey. They’d forgotten to brush their teeth before bed. That thought combined with nerves caused Steve to giggle into Bucky’s mouth. His friend pulled back and Steve thought he was mad, but then he saw the soft smile playing on Bucky’s lips.

“You know it’s kinda rude to laugh when your friend is trying to teach you an important new skill.” Bucky reached a hand up to brush Steve’s fringe out of his face, “What were you thinking about anyways?”

“Just how you taste like whiskey. We didn’t brush our teeth.”

“What? My breath really that bad you have to laugh at me, punk?” Bucky rolled his eyes over dramatically, “And here was me thinking your Ma raised you a gentleman. Obviously not.”

Steve smiled, the knot in his stomach still tight, but loosening at how characteristically them this was. “I’m so sorry James. Where are my manners? Can I offer you a mint?”

Bucky brought a hand to his chest, gasping. “The nerve of you!” he swatted his hand towards Steve, who grabbed it, pushing Bucky with his free hand. The two rolled on to their sides, facing each other head on, continuing with their play fighting. All light slaps, shoving and laughter until Bucky pushed Steve onto his back and slid over the smaller man until he was straddling his lap, pinning Steve’s hands over his head. “Got you now punk.” Bucky smirked and all the air left Steve’s lungs, “Now, where were we?” As Bucky leant forward his crotch rubbed across Steve’s. Steve could feel Bucky’s hardness growing, matching his own. The sudden intimate contact seemed to break whatever spell the two men were under. Steve watched as Bucky came to his senses and climbed off Steve and moved back to his own side of the bed. “Sorry Stevie. Got carried away.” Bucky rubbed at his eyes, hands covering his face, “Maybe that’s enough practice for tonight.”

Steve felt lost. For a moment he had had everything he could have wanted. The warmth of Bucky’s body so close to his own, the touch of lips, hands, and then gone again. It wasn’t fair. The whirl of emotions inside him gave way to a moment of pure fool hardy bravado.

“And what if it isn’t enough practice? Huh?” Steve’s words came out harsher than he intended, causing Bucky to finally take his hands away from his face and look at Steve, brows raised in question. Steve tried to soften the moment, “I mean I really don’t think I get the hang of everything yet, and if I’m gonna be kissing all those dames tomorrow…” He let his sentence trail off as he moved himself closer to Bucky. Hoping his friend might get the hint and accept the offering, accept Steve.

He did.

Their bodies drew together under the sheets, pressing against one another with limbs settling in to a comfortable tangle. Steve supressed a shiver as Bucky’s hands took up their earlier mission of exploring all of Steve’s exposed skin. For the first time Steve allowed himself to touch Bucky. He slid his hands across the expanse of Bucky’s lean muscular back and pulled himself closer as their lips once again met. Their kissing was more intense than before. The press of their mouths was firmer, like they were surer of themselves. If there was a slight undercurrent of desperation to their actions neither one would say anything about it.

Steve didn’t know how long they had been kissing for. They hadn’t noticed that the fire had gone out, a chill seeping back into their small apartment. The heat created by the press of their bodies and the hurried movement of hands was more than enough to keep the cold air at bay. Steve’s lips were numb as he pulled back slightly from Bucky, looking him in the eyes, pupils wide in the dark. There was a gentle light coming through the window behind the bed. It was the first soft rays of the summer sun starting to grace the New York skyline. Delicate beams subdued further by the ragged blind they had hung when they had first moved in together.

“Not bad, Stevie.” Bucky’s eyes seemed to glow in the early light, his features illuminated tenderly, with a thin sheen of perspiration gracing his cheeks and brows.

And there it was. That slow rising smile of contentment and it was aimed only at Steve. The yearning and pure adoration Steve felt in that moment welled up inside him, tears threatening to break. As Bucky leant in for one final kiss, Steve thought he felt a weight lifting from his soul. Bucky flopped onto his back, sighing happily, and Steve nuzzled into his side wrapping his arms around his friend, and now lovers, waist. He didn’t plan to let go any time soon. Both men smiled to themselves, neither daring to say goodnight, or good morning, to the other.

It turned out it would be one of the most restful sleeps either man would have.


End file.
